


Let It Die

by BastRavenshadow



Category: S.W.A.T. (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastRavenshadow/pseuds/BastRavenshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn't matter that if he hadn't taken Brian down, Brian damn sure would have taken him down.</p><p>It didn't make it any easier.</p><p>It didn't make it any easier, killing someone you loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Die

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in a fanzine (Dyad 26).

_I'm a saviour, I'm a sinner, I'm a killer  
I'll be anything you want me to be_

__

__

_Silent as a witness_  
Make your heart race with a death kiss  
I'm a soldier in a blood war

Let It Die by Ozzy Osbourne

 

"You look like you need a Band-Aid."

Jim Street looked at his sergeant. "Somebody else needs a body bag downstairs."

After killing Brian, Street hadn't wanted to come up here, face all this shit, face the team, but he did it. He did it because he had to. He was S.W.A.T., dammit, and he'd been a SEAL. He'd seen death. He'd done death.

But this... 

Jaw tight, Jim kept his mind blank, off of his ex-partner, off of everything he'd done and felt, knowing they had to complete this mission. 

He'd think about everything in his down time. Not here, not now.

Maybe not ever.

+++

He lashed out with his booted foot, kicking Gamble into the rails, under the wheels of the oncoming train.

Street woke, shivering, gut spasming as he fought the urge to puke. He couldn't stop thinking about it, dreaming about it. It. He laughed, a sound without humor, bitter, biting, angry. Call it what it was. Killing Brian. He had killed Brian Gamble. 

It didn't matter that if he hadn't taken Brian down, Brian damn sure would have taken him down.

It didn't make it any easier.

It didn't make it any easier, killing someone you loved.

+++

Hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched in the cold rain, Jim Street stared down at the dark granite stone in front of him. Each etched letter of Brian's name felt like the blade of a knife cutting into his heart. 

As he stood there, getting soaked, he wondered if Brian had missed him like he'd missed Brian after Brian had left the force, left S.W.A.T., left him.

Hell, he wasn't surprised Lara had packed up what little she had and took off. She was right. He had changed. He was different. How could he not be? Without Bri....

Street sighed, squinting a little in the rain, turning to go back to his Chevelle. He couldn't stand out here all afternoon, on one of his rare down times, wishing that Brian wasn't here in the cold ground, turning to dust. 

After all, he was the son of a bitch that put him there.

+++

Street could still smell the grease and dirt and gravel from where he'd folded in on himself on the tracks after the fight. It was like it was permanently etched into his senses. He'd woken up more than once with tears on his face, blood in his mouth, and that smell.

That damned smell.

He swallowed hard and climbed out of bed to get some water. 

+++

He still went to work, still held up his end of things. He still hung with the team, still laughed, still played, still kicked ass. Jim Street was good, and it really didn't matter that he was dying slowly inside, bit-by-bit, piece-by-piece.

He didn't have any problems with the new guys, the ones that took T.J. and Boxer's positions on the team. They were good men, good cops. 

Street could work with anyone, get along with everyone. 

But he'd be damned if he'd let them in, let them get close. 

He'd never let anyone in, ever again.

+++

"Jim, Jesus, stop fucking around," Brian half wheezed, half laughed.

Jim grinned, brushing his fingertips across the back of Brian's thighs, the one weird, freaky place his partner was ticklish, enjoying the squirming before settling down, kissing the laughter away.

Jim woke with a gasp and the knowledge he'd come from the shadowy remembrance of Brian's hands on his skin.

He sobbed, pressing his face into his pillow, hoping to drown out the soul-crushing loneliness and the sound of his weakness.

It didn't work.

It never worked.

It was never gonna die, this love/betrayal/need/disgust/want/anger/desire/hate that Jim Street felt for Brian Gamble. 

It was never going to die.


End file.
